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#.... oh wait is nikto going to make a pack?? is that his plan??
its-captain-sir · 5 years
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Brothers Reunited
Here's the other 100 follower giveaway fic! This was for @outcastcommander , who won the 500 word fic (this also ended up way longer than planned... I just suck at target word writing XD) and ask for something based off of this post here. I read it, my brain said angst, and ta da, this happened! Hope you like it! :)
*******
"In here," he said, nudging his brother in the direction of an abandoned air duct. As soon as they were concealed, Echo let out a sigh of relief.
He walked over to one of the rusty, old blades and yanked it to the side, revealing the pack he had stashed there before running off to go rescue Fives from the people after him. Which, of course, was the entire Republic. He honestly didn't know how Fives managed to keep getting himself into these situations.
"What's that?" Fives asked. Echo threw a ration bar at him in response.
"Eat that." Fives made a face. "When was the last time you had something to eat?" he asked.
"I ate something..." he trailed off, frowning. Echo rolled his eyes underneath the helmet he wore.
"My point exactly."
Fives still eyed the ration bar distrustfully. "You're not trying to poison me, are you?"
"If I wanted you dead, you think I would have rescued you?" he said as he rummaged through the pack.
"I don't know, maybe!" Fives shouted, running a hand over his face. "I don't know who you are or what you want or anything-"
Echo reached up and stole the ration bar from his hands, breaking off a piece. He lifted up his helmet just enough to expose his mouth and bit into it.
He pulled the helmet back down. "See? Not poisoned." He held the ration bar back out to Fives. He took it. Echo turned back to the pack, pulling out paint in various skin tones.
"What's that for?" Fives asked through a full mouth.
"We can't be walking around with you still looking like a clone. It'll draw too much attention." He gestured down to the paint. "This will fix that until we come up with another plan."
Fives stared at him, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Why are you helping me?" he asked softly.
Because you're my brother, he wanted to say. Because you're Fives and you're crazy and drive me insane and I'd do anything for you.
"It's my job to watch out for you," he said instead.
Fives raised an eyebrow at him. "Job?"
Echo didn't say anything else, just sat down on the floor by the paints and motioned for Fives to sit down in front of him.
He got to work quickly, dipping his fingertips into the paints and mixing them together in different ways, highlighting different parts and masking others until Fives' face appeared to take on a different shape. He was good at this sort of thing, often did it to cover up his scars when he actually needed to have his helmet off.
Fives let out a huff as he smudged large amounts of paint over the tattoo on his temple, and Echo's heart ached.
Gods, it hurt to have his brother so close to him again and not do anything about it. He wanted nothing more than to be able to cast off his helmet and hold on to Fives and never let go. His eyes burned as that old, familiar sense of longing ripped through his chest and stole his breath away, and he tried to remind himself it was for the best. He wasn't the "Echo" Fives knew. Not anymore. Too much had happened. No, it was better this way, better that Fives would never know what he had become. And if he did figure it out... Echo didn't want to think about that. There was no way Fives would accept him the way he was now. Echo didn't think he could stand seeing the look of revulsion on his face once Fives realized he was part clanker.
Maybe he was being selfish in not telling Fives the truth. Maybe he was only lying to protect his own feelings. Fives had no idea who he was, but they were together. It was something at least, which is far better than nothing and he didn't want to ruin it.
He just wanted to be with his brother. Echo missed him.
Fives cleared his throat, and Echo realized he had been staring, frozen with his paint-covered fingertips inches from Fives' face. "So..." he said, gaze flickering between his fingers and the visor of Echo's helmet. "Am I good now?"
Echo let his hand fall. "Yeah," he croaked out, thankful for the vocabulator in the helmet that revealed none of the emotion he couldn't quite keep out of his voice. "It'll do."
Fives nodded, standing. "What next?"
"Next, we head to my apartment."
Fives paused. "Wait, you mean-"
Echo tilted his head. "Did you think I lived here?" Fives' mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
"While I suppose I see how you could think that, I do have higher standards than living in an old air duct," Echo sighed, crossing his arms.
"Right, uh, sorry," Fives stammered, hand ghosting over the back of his shone head as he looked down at the ground. Echo watched him, heart aching again, until he forced himself to look away.
"Come on," he said softly, turning back to the entrance.
They made their way through the streets of the undercity. It wasn't as bad a place as most people made it out to be. Some had a reason to be here, others just were. People went about their life and you just carved out a place for yourself in between it all like everyone else. Simple as that.
They turned the corner to the street of his apartment building, only to find a Quarren and three Niktos standing by the door.
"Damnit," Echo muttered. "I didn't want to deal with this today."
"What?" Fives asked, looking between Echo and the men at the door. "Wait, is something-"
Echo silenced him with a hush. "Just act like you belong here and let me do the talking. And hope that I won't end up needing to move again."
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but Fives did as he said. The change was almost scary to watch. In a few seconds he'd gone from a confused fugitive to a bored smuggler following a friend. Echo was impressed. Well, he supposed they didn't make clones ARC troopers for nothing.
Echo took a deep breath, already formulating an escape plan should they need it, and approached the building.
"Excuse me, some people actually need to use this door," he said, shoving his way past them. If they could just get inside...
The largest of the three Niktos stepped into his path, blocking the door. Echo stared at him defiantly through the visor of his helmet. "Do you live here? 'Cause I've never seen you around before and if you don't live here, then I kindly suggest you get out of my way.
The Nikto didn't reply. The other two grabbed his arms and shoved him back, placing him right in front of their leader, the Quarren.
"Who's your friend?" he asked, the Niktos resuming their place behind them. Echo supposed it would have made a frightening picture to anyone who hadn't met them before. But he was quite familiar with this little gang. They were hardly a threat worth his time.
"Oh, you know, just someone I met," Echo said. He leaned ever so slightly on the nearby wall, unfazed by their failed intimidation. "I'm good at making new friends. Unlike you I see. This is, what, the third time you've brought the same three guys with you? You having trouble making friends there, pal? I mean, I'd definitely be willing to give you some pointers if yo-"
"Shut. Up." the Quarren hissed.
"Ah, so it's gonna be one of those days," Echo sighed. They had decided to pick a fight with him today? Fine. He'd just have to kick their asses again. "Don't use your blaster," he told Fives. They weren't far enough down where Coruscant police wouldn't be alerted if there was a skirmish. That meant no blasters on either party's part.
He pulled his vibroknife out from his right vanbrace and handed it to Fives. "Hang onto that," he said, "I want it back afterwards." The others had unsheathed their own vibroknifes, and he'd rather Fives have more protection. He knew his brother could hold his own, of course, but he wasn't at his best right now. Someone had drugged him and it hadn't yet left his system. Echo could do without the vibroblade.
He gave a cocky salute to Fives, then quickly turned around and elbowed one of the gang members in the stomach. Another one came at him from the right, slashing his vibroknife through the air in a large swing. Echo sidestepped the attack easily.
"Missed me," Echo taunted, dodging the blade once again. Another swipe. "Missed me again." He took a step back, throwing the gang member off balance enough for Echo to grab him. "You just really are not on top of your game today, huh?" he said, twisting the Nikto's arm till he dropped the knife. Then Echo kneed him in the chest and let his body drop to the ground.
He picked up the discarded vibroknife and threw it at the first Nikto he'd taken down, who had started to get up again. The knife went right through the collar of his shirt and embedded itself in the wall behind him, pinning him there.
"What happened to 'once you're down, you stay down?'" Echo muttered. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun and raised his right arm just in time to catch the Quarren's blade. It hit the metal cybernetics with a clang.
The Quarren looked at him with wide eyes and Echo smirked beneath his helmet. "Cybernetic arm," he said. "Which means this is going to really hurt." He twisted and socked the Quarren in the face with his metal hand, dropping him to the ground.
That was enough time, however, for the last Nikto to come up from behind him. He heard Fives shout the beginning of a warning before pain lanced through his jaw. The brute had put all of his strength into the uppercut, enough to knock Echo's helmet clean off.
Blinking the stars from his eyes, he spit out blood on the ground in front of him. "Ow," he hissed. "Rude." He glared up at the last Nikto. The brute actually had the decency to look scared before Echo delivered a roundhouse kick that would have made even Commander Cody proud.
The Quarren staggered to his feet and took off running, the other gang members stumbling after him. He turned around to pick up his helmet, but Fives was already there. His eyes were fixed on the visor, fingers trailing across the double bars painted on it. Echo had painted those bars, and the handprint, on every set of armor he'd had. This one was no exception, the only difference being he no longer wore the handprint on the outside, rather painted it on the inside. He could see the exact moment the realization hit Fives.
Slowly, his brother looked away, gaze traveling up and up until it reached his scarred face and finally met Echo's own.
The helmet fell to the ground.
"...Echo?"
He smiled sadly. "Hey, Fives."
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Juma Juice please!
I still remember the day I got back home to find the strange parcel waiting for me right outside my door. Growing up in a rather rough neighbourhood in Nar Shaddaa had given me reason to suspect that something could be off about the whole thing. But then again, those were dark days so if someone had rigged a permacrete detonator to go off when I opened the parcel, I wouldn’t have been particularly displeased about having pieces of me being found on Nal Hutta. I knew who had sent it, of course. There was really no guessing involved. I was surprised, however, to find something else moving around inside the parcel. That was unusual. I certainly didn’t think I’d find her once prized possession in there. I remember thinking then that I wished it had actually been a permacrete detonator after all, for the thought of losing a dear friend was just as unbearable as dying. I suppose you might think I am being deliberately secretive, and in some part, I couldn’t care less, but some part of me wants to tell you what this all means. I owe it to her. 
******************************* 1 *******************************
It was just another day out there in the world, trying to make a living and trying to not get squashed under the automaton that is the hustle and bustle of Nar Shaddaa. I succeeded spectacularly well on the second count, usually at the expense of a friend or two. 
That particular day a friend of mine had offered to take me on for a scheme she had planned out for me at the Casino. A couple of hours into the task and I was still unsure of what she was doing and more importantly, what I needed to do. Rather frustrated, she then suggested I take some time off to head to the local cantina in the lower promenade area. I suspected she’d just been fed up with my figuring her business out. (Confidence draws in people and makes our job a lot easier, she tried to tell me.) I was a bit hesitant at first, but exhausted, so I agreed with her and bade her farewell. I was pretty sure she wasn’t about to call me on my holocom anytime soon. I imagine I was just deadweight to a hustler and that I was actually hurting her business.
I made my way away from her location to avoid hurting her business any more. My mind wasn’t actively pursuing any thoughts. Well, there were the usual ones. Is it just our lot to be born into a wonderful time where it was possible to travel from one star system to another and to just squander our lives away running some scheme or the other to get by to put some food in front of us. It seemed a waste of our time and curiosity to spend our lives worried about mundane pursuits, you know? Maybe you have it good and you’re not toiling away just to not starve when you could be reaching for the stars. Mulling over these thoughts, I strolled down the promenade to the cantina and managed to bump into only one irritable traveller (or just a well-dressed local going nowhere with a few choice Huttese words for me). In fairness, I wasn’t particularly going to defend my having bumped into them. I arrived at the cantina, snapped rudely out of my reverie by the bright lights in front of me. Drawing a deep breath and steeling myself for far more delectable Huttese words, I walked into the cantina.
The cantina itself was fairly crowded, as was to be expected. Nar Shaddaa is known for its vices and cantinas seem to be where the seekers tend to find what they come to Nar Shaddaa to look for. Either that or there were just way too many people who had nowhere to be, like me. I suppose I can’t feel too special. Not on this glorious jewel of a rock. The decks of dancers lined the east and west walls of the cantina, alive with the swaying movements of a few dancers trying to make it big in Nar Shaddaa - their ardent fans cheering them on. Loudly… A local band performed some nameless tune that somehow managed not to aggravate any of the patrons, which was remarkable considering the diversity of the crowd. I weaved my way from the through some rather inebriated Weequays who were trying to pick a fight with anyone who looked their way and past the indifferent patrons trying to catch up with their friends rather unenthusiastically. After walking all the way to the other side of the cantina, the nondescript melody of the band was replaced by the cacophony of drunken creatures chatting loudly in their little groups. The bar itself was packed with patrons waiting impatiently for their orders as an overworked server was quickly dispatching order after order. It had been sometime since I last ate, but I wasn’t confident of getting my order any time soon, so I decided to stick to a simple order of juma juice. Sure enough, the server had just about enough time to take my order before whizzing back to some swaying human on the other side of the bar from me. While I waited, I looked around me to take in the whole cantina. This was obviously not allowed as I soon heard the server shout “Juma Juice!” somewhere near me. By the time I turned to see them, there was just a glass of juice standing on the bar. 
“If you don’t take that, I just might!” I heard someone close to me say. 
I grabbed the juice instinctively and looked at the speaker, a twi’lek who was about as tall as me. I looked into her red eyes and immediately felt a warmth look back at me. She smiled disarmingly and added, “I wasn’t actually going to, you know.”
“Oh! No, that’s not it! Well, if you want it, you can take it!” I said as I offered the glass clumsily towards her. She smiled again and said that she just had a month’s worth of juma juice the previous night.
“That’s a shame!”, I said, “I was looking for a friend to drink with last night!” Daft. So daft.
“Well, give me a couple of days and I’ll join you!” Maybe not so daft?
“Sure thing! And do I come here to look for you?” Back to daft.
She laughed heartily. No, I’m not just saying that to use that adverb. She actually tilted her head back and her lekku fell onto her back as she laughed. 
“You could do that! Or you could call me on my holocom. You know, whatever’s easier for you...” She said with a mock frown and drawing her lekku in front of her shoulders.
“You know what, I’m no bounty hunter - a holocom might just work. When you do receive a call, it’ll be from Nartt, calling...?”
“Yor-Ema.” She smiled that smile of hers that could have a battle droid shut down. She sent me her holocom details with a brief swipe on her device.
“I’m sorry, Nartt, but I need to get going now. I promised a friend I’d meet them at the spaceport and my parcel has arrived.” She sounded genuinely apologetic,
“Well, Yor-Ema, I shall see you soon, then!” I waved to her. She smiled once more and headed out of the cantina with a small parcel of food in hand. She managed effortlessly to move through the crowd. 
I’m no droid, but the odds of meeting a friendly person in Nar Shaddaa were slim at best, and certainly smaller during the war. You’d have better luck successfully teaching a rancor table etiquette. I downed my juma juice in one gulp and wondered when I’d meet her next. 
Although, to this day I don’t know when she ordered and picked up her parcel at the cantina because I saw no movement at all and she didn’t have anything in her hand when I first saw her. I suppose I’ll never know now. I do know that I was pretty excited to meet her again the following week, though.
******************************* 2  ******************************* 
I suppose for the sake of your understanding, you’ll need to know that over the course of a few months, Yor-Ema and I met frequently with almost fixed periodicity. In fact, each time I met her I had taken up a new venture (all of which, with equal periodicity, failed) with my friend, most of them involving the Casino. Yor believed I just went there because I fancied my luck at winning some credits. Everytime we met we’d grab a juma juice and talk about our brilliant, fantastical plans for various enterprises in Nar Shaddaa and across the galaxy. You know, the kind of talk that helps you get by in the monotony of an otherwise uneventful life with no inherent purpose. 
It was only six weeks after our initial meeting that I asked her what someone as refined as her was doing in a slime-pit like Nar Shaddaa. 
She fell unnaturally silent and brushed her lekku to fall on her back, something I’d come to understand was her way to collect her thoughts. (The last time this happened, a belligerent Nikto tried to bulldoze her out of his way at the cantina and while I knew she wasn’t the kind to snap at someone, she calmly talked the brute down into waiting his turn - that’s not something I’d ordinarily try - let alone succeed at!) 
“What do you think your story is?” she asked me in return.
“My... story?” What was that supposed to mean?
“Yes. In the sense of a great tale, what is your story about?” She asked again. 
“Well,” I started, “I suppose it would be about trying to find a way... to live... and not hurt another?” I stumbled. I think by now you’d see why I could barely keep a job. 
“Hmmm, so it’s about finding out the path that’s best for you that doesn’t involve crossing into the path of another without any adverse impact?”
“That sounds almost noble, but that’s kind of what I’d imagine my story would be about.” I have no idea- I didn’t lose sleep trying to figure out what my story was about, you know? I mean, do you know what yours is? I digress.
“It is noble, Nartt,” she said as she put on a tired smile. It was one of the few times I saw her in some kind of pain. It crushed me. 
“It’s just everyday life,” I insisted. You don’t get special points for doing the ordinary. Right?
“If only those who are heralded as wise would be as humble as you.” She sighed and slowly her smile faded.
I panicked. I didn’t want to add to her sorrow by asking her to dwell on this thing that obviously caused her pain, but I also felt that it would have been callous to just skip over that.
“Yor,” I said gently, “do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” 
She smiled drily and answered, “We’ll be here long after the stars in the galaxy burn out if I start.”
“At least it would have been a life well spent, listening to you...” I tried to nudge her, now that I knew she did want to talk about it.
“Well, alright, but we need more Juma. You up for a walk to the cantina?”
“Of course.”
There are certain moments in life that transform the pace and scale of your understanding of the Universe. If you are hurtling along in life and not aware of rushing through life, a simple realisation could bring your entire world to a standstill. You feel the rest of your mind stretch out at the same hurried pace but your core consciousness is halted in its tracks and soon the mind snaps back elastically and you’re entirely still. In those moments you glimpse at the greater automaton of the Universe and see just how vast the Universe really is. When you realise that there’s a beauty to the chaos after all, and what you thought was chaos was just another form of beauty that your mind masked with absurd little adjectives. In those moments, your very Universe grows bigger and you realise your own transient role. And you know these moments when you experience them. And just about anything could trigger this change of pace. Something you’ve done everyday of your life, like stepping into the same building in which you work to earn a living, or waking up one day, or watching something terrible happen before your eyes, or watching a holovid of a certain scene from your favourite drama or talking to a companion.
I knew the moment Yor started talking that her tale was one such moment. 
 ******************************* 3 ******************************* 
I suppose my tale begins like any other. I never really got to know my parents. No, this isn’t some hero origin story.
I was inducted into a religious order by the time I was four. I don’t really remember much of my home planet. I don’t remember much of what my community was, either. I guess we can paint that entire segment of my life as a huge “unknown”. It has little bearing on the rest of my life in any case. In fact, why don’t we just skip to where the story gets interesting? (I nodded.)
Like many of the folks in the order, I was constantly faced with many choices – the kind that are meant to make or break your path and the mundane ones as well. We grow up thinking it’s the great big choices, not the little ones, that change the fate of the galaxy and that’s largely true. I’ll bet you thought I was going somewhere else with that sentence, heh. Jokes aside, the small choices, they matter too, you know. But they’re not the same. You need to be able to walk to the Cantina, walk back via a provision store, pick up food for the week so that you can go to work (I wasn’t sure she’d ever worked a day in her life, but this me! But, again, I nodded.) and go about your everyday life. These choices matter because they carry you through your life and that’s ultimately what moves the galaxy. The big decisions – getting a new job, living in with someone- they move your life in some new direction in big jerks and weirdly enough, they move the galaxy too. I guess what I’m trying to say is, all our choices move the galaxy- the idea of big decisions and small decisions are just with our own perspective. They’re not the same, but they have largely similar effects. I suppose they’re about the same as you choosing to have juma juice or playing a game of pazaak. The galaxy is altered either way. Yeah, I think that makes sense doesn’t it? (Cue nod.) I grew up thinking the decisions are the same and should be treated as such. So, I, being a good little acolyte, played along. I tried to view all decisions as equal and not to be swept up in the romantic idea of big decisions changing the fate of the galaxy. And over time that kind of attitude breeds a sense of disinterest in the choices one makes because everything, every choice, starts to feel the same. The worst part is I thought I was finally reaching the epitome of being a good acolyte.
Anyway, about three years ago there was quite a buzz in our Order on account of the Mandalorian threat.  Many of us in the Order were swept up in the excitement – this much is common knowledge. In the core worlds, the threat was less of a worry and more of a faint buzz, like when a dream starts to dissipate some five minutes after you wake up. We all knew of the few who disobeyed the caution of the Masters in the Outer Rim – you know, Revan, Malak and the rest of the Renegade Brigade- and went head-on into the battle. With my understanding of choices and viewing things as being the same, I decided to wait on the counsel of the Masters – again, thinking this was my path to being a good little acolyte receiving a pat on the head. The rushing into battle was viewed with scorn by Masters in the Outer Rim and Core worlds alike. Time passed, we went about our everyday choices – the ones that moved the galaxy in a different way. In a couple of years, the choice was made for our Order. We had to go into battle because many acolytes who followed Revan or started late in that direction, had been filled with new direction from a new teaching – you must be familiar with the Jedi Civil War (I nodded half-heartedly– like most civilians in the galaxy, the “Civil War” was as confusing as two Hutts fighting over a bet in a swoop race that no one was really paying attention to.) – and by then we had to move ourselves into action to contain the threat. I was sent to some far-flung planet in the Outer Rim.
The masters were the ones who went to face the “fallen Jedi” (her lekku twitched as she said this). We were sent on relief and rescue missions. When you see the devastation that was caused by the Mandalorians, oh my. The amount of destruction that those people in the Outer Rim had to face. Homes destroyed, communities decimated and whole patches of planets annihilated. I’m ordinarily very stoic about this sort of thing, but it’s a whole other thing when you feel it, you know? You see the carbon scoring on the buildings, the flames in forests that can’t be put out. You know what I saw out there, Nartt? I saw…. Suffering. I saw the suffering of peoples who were just in the wrong quadrant of the galaxy when a bad-tempered race set their world on fire and the so called protectors, no doubt through good will, continued the rampage of war by turning their home into a battlefield. The peoples of that planet can’t tell Mandalorian carbon-scoring from Republic carbon-scoring. That’s all the same. The Republic’s choice to turn their home world into a war zone is no different from the Mandalorians raiding their planet.
I get that the Mandalorians started it, of course. I’m not so misguided as to think the Republic is just as bad as them, but the choice taken by the Generals in the Republic Fleet to bomb whole cities that were occupied by Mandalorians to turn the tide of battle, that choice is looked upon now with the wisdom of hindsight as being victorious. But that choice, grandiose though it may appear, is something that involved and affected the lives of more than just the Republic Fleet and the Mandalorian raiders. You can’t equate the actions of both parties but both of them disregarded the lives of those on the planet. (Wait, if the Mandalorians had already landed on the planet, what choice did the Republic have but to take the battle to the ground? I’m no patriot to the Republic, but come on. You must be thinking it too!)
I suppose you must not know of all the battles of Revan, Nartt. Revan was a brilliant war strategist. Let me…. Elaborate. You must be aware of the conundrum I’m about to describe. If you happen to intercept a message from the opposing side that says there will be an impending attack in five days on one of your cities but a weakness in their defence that will subsequently be made apparent ten days later where you can strike at their heart, would you rush to solidify the defences of the city immediately, thereby alerting the enemy of your having intercepted a message, but save many lives, or possibly even the city itself, or would you wait it out and give it all you’ve got in the attack on the enemy ten days later, possibly driving them away? It’s one of those battles that Revan earned considerable fame and recognition for. They waited it out, allowed the Mandalorians to ravage the capital city but within a few days, they decimated a significant number of Mandalorian warriors and ships. It was a decisive blow to the Mandalorians and they retreated from that planet with haste. Revan went on to fight many other such battles. It is possible to argue that that action had saved countless lives in the long run because of the number of Mandalorians killed that day. But from another point of view, the avoidable had been allowed to pass and lives were lost needlessly. Either way – many lives were lost on both sides in a short span. But that’s what wars do. They take away lives. (A big gulp of Juma Juice here.)
So down there, on the ground, the people couldn’t care less about the Civil War because to them, the war had already destroyed much of their home. The evacuation wasn’t really a palatable option since they viewed the Republic with as much distaste as they viewed the Mandalorians. Understandably. To them, they viewed the choice to stall the attack to be as if the Republic Fleet had condemned them to die. A choice that killed many of their family members.
Our relief activities, already met with apprehension from the natives, was further impeded when battalions of Sith troopers landed on the surface a few weeks after we reached. The metallic resources on the planet was possibly the reason for their visit, we gathered. Our job became a lot trickier. We were running out of resources to continue to sustain the refugees and with every passing day, the possibility of evacuating the population dwindled as the Sith were gaining ground and were prepared to blast us out of the sky. We couldn’t just leave the people behind. The choice was placed before a few of us from the Order: Fight, evacuate the people against their wish or to cease rescue activities. As Jedi we shunned the idea of abandoning the people, so that really only left us with two choices. I didn’t really know how to feel and couldn’t bear to take on the responsibility of such magnitude where my choice would have a large impact on the people of a planet. We convened multiple times to chip away at the problem before us. Finally, a consensus was reached. We were to fight the Sith. How glorious! Even away from the heart of the battle we were now a part of the War! For the republic! (An entire glass of Juma Juice downed here.)
We conducted our recon and found out the location of a particular outpost where the Commanding Officer of the Sith was going to be stationed for two days and where the defences would be lowest and the accompanying guard could be easily tackled by five of us. It was the best shot we had. Once we had everything planned out, we were informed that the Premier of the People of the planet wished to speak to us. We marched into that room and told her about our plan. She urged us to reconsider the course of violent action and asked us if we could assist if diplomacy was still on the table. We assured her that the Sith were not ones to bargain without a blaster and to assume otherwise, in a warzone, would have been delusional. She was not pleased and spent much of an entire day trying to cover alternate ways. We agonised over the plan through her eyes and confirmed that even though we were peace keepers, we couldn’t work miracles. Our final say was that in times of war, we sometimes have no other choice but to take a few lives. It wasn’t necessarily a choice I was entirely pleased with, but it was the consensus. To deviate would have caused us all more time and I didn’t particularly feel strong about a diplomatic course either. We had signed up for this war to protect the republic and the interests of its citizens solely to handle the difficult choices. Her final words to us that day was a polite request for us to leave her planet and to never bring war back again. She could not be made to see reason.
When the day finally came, we went ahead with our plan. Against the wishes of the people. Clearly both choices we had originally were going to anger the wishes of the people. Oh well, sometimes we have to do the right thing even if we won’t be liked for it, right?
We moved with haste to the location as planned and waited till the Sith CO turned up, with the guard, as predicted. We waited precisely for the optimal moment to strike and went ahead, silent as an amateur sabacc player with a terrible hand. My task was to go straight for the CO as my companions were to take care of the guard. We launched ourselves onto the building itself and split off, ready to execute our own bit of the plan. I headed directly for the spot above where the CO would be. I plunged my green lightsaber blade into the ceiling and attempted to cut out a hole. All around me I heard the sounds of the struggle: blaster-fire met with the hum of a spinning lightsaber and some thunking and collapsing. I could only hope things were going as planned. It was too late to change plans, in any case, so I had nothing else to do but to drop into the building. The CO was not present. Curious. They could have been alerted, of course. So I ran around the inside for a little while, hoping to find a safe room or some hidden room where the CO would have been hidden away.
I reached out with the Force to find out where the CO was. It was a little sketchy at first, then I managed to find a faint whisper – a little panic. I tuned into that voice to find out where the CO was and located the exact room. I tuned in my holocom to tell my companions to pull away and await my signal and they agreed. I waited for their signal to say they had pulled away before confronting the CO.
The CO was in the room, sure enough – a larder. She turned towards the door and saw me. I think she knew what I was there for. It wasn’t exactly a matter of winning a sabacc championship: in comes Jedi with lightsaber ablaze to confront a Sith officer. I told her that I was willing to talk things out.
-          Are you mad? You’ve killed my entire troop and decide to talk now?
-          Well, do you want to talk or not?
-          You’re not serious. I don’t believe this.
-          Look, we don’t have to do this. We have other choices.
-          You Jedi are too repressed, sitting away in your asylums, hiding away your bloodlust.
I thought about what she said. Was it true? Was that all I was doing? Hiding behind an illusion of being a peace keeper because it was the right choice to make when I wanted something different? I knew that killing was wrong because I had seen the suffering caused by the war, but was I rushing to war because it allowed me to look for a place where my choice to kill someone, even inadvertently, wouldn’t be looked upon with severe judgement? Did I seek war so that I could be given a blank slate to kill and not have to torment myself with the guilt of having taken a life. I had the choice to finish this CO off as an act of war to prevent more deaths for the people of the planet. I also had the choice to reason with her. I chose to power down my lightsaber.
Anyway, as I spent those moments doing the most intense soul searching I had ever done, I saw that her hand that was reaching for a blaster was slowly relaxing. Then in the blink of an eye, she pulled her blaster and aimed it right at me. The blaster bolt left the barrel right as my lightsaber powered up and deflected the bolt right back at her abdomen towards the left. She clutched her abdomen and collapsed on her side. Once again, I powered down my lightsaber.
Maybe it was a manifestation of my own guilt or maybe these things were meant to happen. I got a call on my holocom telling me that the Premier’s transport was docking at the outpost.
The Sith CO was sputtering and holding on to a shelf in the larder, bleeding before my eyes. I tried to tell her that I was going to help her up. Naturally, I was met with some strong verbal resistance. I couldn’t blame her. I had given off, admittedly, mixed signals. After some fussing, I managed to convince her that I was going to carry her to a more comfortable part of the facility. Asking her to press down on the wound with some tunic fabric, I carried her up and to where she told me to go, the meeting room.
In walked the Premier, right at that moment. She was startled to see me, shall we say?
-          What in blazes are you doing here?
-          I came here to well… it’s complicated.
-          Why is she wounded?! What have you done?
That. That’s what keeps me up at night, Nartt. Not “What are you going to do?” not “What are you doing?” but “what have you done?”. The indication that what I had done was final and done with. And to be honest, it was done with. I couldn’t undo the wound any more than the Mandalorians could undo the siege on the planet. I had added more suffering to an already suffering planet. In the war strategy rooms there’s always the possibility to mask this little suffering against the suffering that already exists but that’s not how it is. The fact was, I had contributed to the suffering of the planet. A peace keeper continuing the war by adding one more fragment of suffering.
-          I didn’t mean to.
-          Intentions, my Jedi friend, do not count. You made a choice to wound this officer and that’s what has happened.
Fearing the worst, we turned to the Sith CO and checked on her status. She was not doing well. The Premier tended to her wounds as best she could.
-          Saranna, I’m sorry you got caught up in this fight.
-          I take it they weren’t sent by you?
-          No, they acted of their own accord and against my expressed wishes. In fact, their being here is in violation of my wishes.
-          I find that hard to believe. Why should I believe that you didn’t just tell them about the meeting?
-          I beg of you, please listen to me. I did not sanction this action and I am deeply sorry. We will find a means of compensating for this folly as best we can.
I decided to pitch in and confirm that we were not, in fact, sent in by the Premier.
-          So (cough), our transaction may have to be carried out with haste. I don’t see myself really lasting very long.
-          We can take you to our medical facility.
-          No, you don’t understand. I have already undergone some beating during this war. That blaster shot just hit the worst part in my system.
-          Blaster, so… not? Lightsaber?
-          No, this one didn’t chop me up with her blade. I fired at her and her Jedi reflexes kicked in, no doubt. I guess, in a way, my choice to rush into battle has caught up with me. I don’t have time to feel guilty though.
-          Oh, right. We have the shipment, as requested.
While Saranna drank some potion that the Premier offered, I asked the Premier what the transaction was about. She explained that the Sith who landed on her planet were defectors, running away from the war. The nearest planet they could find was this one and seeing as they didn’t have any other choice but to risk being mistaken for brining the war, they landed there, fearing being tried or courtmartialed for their act of desertion if they went to any Sith controlled planet, if they could travel that far. They had reached out to the nearby outpost in an emergency broadcast, requesting for supplies. This request was never raised to us, but I suppose if it had been, we would have brushed it off as a ruse. We really are predictable in our behaviour, it would appear. The Premier had made the decision to share the equipment that they used as much of the equipment on the planet was no longer functional. A deal that was conducted outside of our counsel though she had mentioned the possibility and we saw it in our infinitely greater wisdom to disregard it altogether. Now, thanks to the generosity of the Premier, the Sith defectors would not starve to death on an alien planet that had provided them asylum when all they hoped for was a break from the war. The Premier had been more of a Jedi than we had. Whatever that means. As if the Jedi own all acts of righteousness. Saranna was not doing too good even after an application of bacta. We all knew it. She looked at me and spoke as she pulled out a little device from her pocket.
-          Jedi, I need you to carry a message.
-          Yes?
-          I have a son and a daughter hidden away from the Empire. I need you to take this holorecording to them.
-          Where are they?
-          I don’t know. Hutt space. That’s the best place I could suggest for them to hide after I defected.
-          Alright. What are their names?
-          Let’s not get too friendly. (She laughed feebly)
-          Um
-          It’s on the recording. The first three words are their names.
-          Cool.
-          Thank you.
I wanted to thank her too. She could have easily said a lightsaber killed her – why wouldn’t she? It’s not like she’d have lost anything to do so. Maybe she did it because she was gifted with the ability to be objective? Maybe she’s just seen too much and saw no point in compounding troubles? Maybe it was a combination of those things and I’d never be able to understand her choice. You never can understand the choices another person makes until you see them. And even then you can never understand why. I took the device and stashed it away in my robe.
I realised I was running of time to really do anything of use for her, so I chose to do the one thing I knew I wanted to, not just because I thought I had to. I looked at her and said as clearly as I could:.
“I’m sorry.”
Saranna chose to ignore me and held onto her side. The bacta wasn’t working.
We carried her to a bed in the dorm section and sat by her side. I was called by my companions to ask if I was alright. I completely forgot about them! I told them to head back to the village we were based in and await further updates once I got there.
The Premier and I sat by the bedside of the dying Sith Officer in silence.
By morning, she was one with the Force. We made arrangements for the Sith soldiers to take her body and those of her guard and, as compensation, some of the supplies we brought to the planet and the offer to stay with the rest of the villagers. The Sith, fearing animosity from the villagers, chose to stay away from the villagers.
I apologised sincerely for the entire tragedy to the Premier and informed her that my companions would be there to take on the responsibility of extending the relief efforts for some time longer. I had to find Saranna’s kids in Hutt space.
I left that planet a changed individual. I never chose to be in the Jedi Order but I did choose to become a Jedi. I chose to walk the path of the Consular; I chose to listen to the Council’s advice when they cautioned against rushing off to war with Revan. I chose to do as I was told because I believed I was doing the right thing. I chose to do things thinking it was the right thing to do for the longest time thinking that was the same thing as choosing the right thing to do. In the end, I had chosen to carry out an act of aggression before exhausting all possible courses of diplomacy. I chose to enter a warzone thinking I would be absolved of the guilt of killing people along the way. I chose to attack a Sith Officer and had increased the suffering on a planet that was already suffering from the after-effects of a devastating war. I chose to act in a way that disregarded the wellbeing of those on the planet, thinking my choice to be more important or wise than theirs. I chose to leave behind my Jedi life when I left the atmosphere. It’s not that I felt undeserving of the mantle or anything, but because I wanted to choose to do things on my terms and not because I was trying to do right.
That, Nartt, is the reason why I don’t wear my robe anymore. Don’t worry, I took the holorecording out of the robe before I folded them away for good. And that rather long account is also what my story is.
******************************* 4 ******************************* 
           “Wow,” I said. What else could I say?
           “That’s a lot, I know. But I did warn you, you know?”
           “So, did you….”
           “Did I? Find the kids…?”
           “No. Leave the Order?”
           “Am I a rogue Jedi?” She chuckled at this.
           “Well, are you?”
           “It depends. I feel in some ways like I’m more of a Jedi now than I ever was when I wore the robes.”
           “So you’ve handed in your lightsaber?”
           “Shhhh…. I haven’t.” She had a twinkle in her eyes.
           “Oh? That’s convenient.”
           “I haven’t made contact with my masters since I first asked them for their blessing on our plan to attack the outpost. Oddly enough, they were all too eager to sanction that. Once they threw caution to the wind, they really tossed it out, I guess! I have decided to not contact them just to tell them the long story. I doubt any of them would have the patience to sit with me and order some Juma Juices while I narrate all of that, you know?”
           “So you are rogue.”
           “Why, yes, I suppose you could say that.”
           “Did you find the kids yet?”
           “I have a lead.”
           “Is that why you’ve been coming to this Cantina everyday?”
           “No!! I’ve really been enjoying our chats, Nartt, don’t be absurd!”
           “So… what is your lead?”
           “I’m afraid I can’t say.”
           “Erm.”
           “Don’t worry. It’s just if things go south… A story for another day.”            “How many of these do you carry around?” I asked her with a wry smile.
           “My fair share.”
           “I know better than to not believe you.”
           “So, who’s paying for all those Juma Juices?”
           “I am, don’t worry. I did ask for your entire memoir.”
           “Aren’t you the sweetest scamster.”
           I called the bartender’s attention to settle the bill. Yor excused herself – I guess it was just too much Juma Juice. It took some time for the bar tender to come through. On her way back to our seat, Yor stopped to talk to someone seated in a booth. In all the times I’d met her, I’d never seen Yor talk to anyone else in the Cantina.
           She headed back and smiled brightly at me as I gathered up my things and we pushed our way out of the Cantina.
           “I understand there’s a bounty out on Jedi here in Nar Shaddaa…” she began.
           “Nasty business…. Wait. You don’t think?”
           “I don’t think what?”
           “I’m not going to turn you in, Yor!” I exclaimed, a little louder than I hoped to.
           “No, I didn’t think that.” She said and her thoughts wandered a little after that.
           “Okay. I’m not sure I can guess what you’re thinking of.”
           “That’s good.” She said with a mischievous smile. “Say, Nartt. Would you mind giving me a ride?”
           “Uh, sure! Where to?”
           “The casino on your way back home.”
           “Sure. You’re the most fun Jedi I know.”
           “Ex-Jedi”, she corrected me.
           We hopped into my cruiser and made small talk about the state of affairs in Nar Shaddaa and how we could make things better. The usual stuff we talked about.
           As I approached the Casino I looked to her to confirm if this was the place and she nodded to confirm.
           I pulled up in the docking bay and she hopped out, graceful and with ease.
           “Thanks for the ride, Nartt!”
           “Anytime, Rogue.” I could easily see myself calling her that from now on.
           Her lekku twitched when I called her that. She laughed her hearty laugh and waved to me.
           “Thank you for listening to my story.”
           “Thank you for listening to mine!”
           “May the Force be with you, Nartt. You’re my favourite friend.” She smiled and waved to me. Why did it feel like goodbye?
           “Hey Yor, this isn’t goodbye, is it?”
           “As if you’d get off that easy!” She threw her hands up in mock exasperation. “You will get to buy me a Juma Juice when we say goodbye.”
           I was a little reassured with that. Once satisfied, I pulled up and headed back to my humble, dingy abode.
           I didn’t see Yor for a week.
           And then another week passed.
           And another.
           I didn’t get to say goodbye to my friend. I was angry with her. She promised me it wasn’t goodbye. Why would she? What had she planned? What had she gotten herself into? Did this have anything to do with the person she spoke to at the Cantina? It really was risky for a Jedi, even an ex-Jedi, to wander around Nar Shaddaa when the Exchange was so interested in collecting them.
           I asked the bartender if he knew anything about her whereabouts. There was never any positive response. I even asked if they knew anything about the person she spoke to.
           I tried going back to the usual gigs and tricks to get some credits to get by. My friend at the Casino was rather happy to have me back and with full cooperation this time.
           I wasn’t any better at any of the tricks, though and my friend was always annoyed when I struggled to get the hang of some scam.
           We weren’t too unsuccessful in our endeavours though and managed to turn over some credits as the weeks rolled by.
           That’s when I received the parcel.
I had no other choice but to imagine the worst and to move on.
******************************* 5 ******************************* 
           One day, a particularly good day, I went for some drinks with my friend after work. We had managed a pretty nifty score.
           The drinks were really flowing that night and we managed to let loose with the wild music playing in the Cantina. It was altogether a good evening and I guess I needed that after Yor’s disappearance.
           Somewhere close to last order, when we were still stacking up the empty glasses on our table, my friend leaned over and said.
           “Hey, Nartt. You wanna hear something interesting?”
           “Always.”
           “Well. This is kinda hush-hush, alright?”
           “My lips are sealed.”
           “Here goes.”
           “I’m all ears.”
           “You know how my brother is a bounty hunter?”
           “No.” There’s a sentence you don’t normally expect a co-worker to say, even if you’re on Nar Shaddaa.
           “He is. Keep up.”
           I nodded.
           “So he was tipped off by this one Cantina regular that there’s a Jedi here on Nar Shaddaa. Can you believe it?”
           I feigned surprise. “No, really?”
           “I know, right?! Well, anyway, this guy comes up to my brother and tells him about the Jedi. Some female Twi’lek Jedi.”
           “Oh?”
           “Yeah, but the really weird thing is, the guy said that the Jedi approached him. As if to turn herself in.”
           “That’s odd.”
           “As selfless as they pretend to be, what Jedi would turn themselves in? To a bounty hunter? In Nar Shaddaa? It’s the sleaziest place to be. I’ll bet Hunters elsewhere conduct themselves with some decorum at least, you know?”
           “Um…”
           “My brother’s different. We’re not actually from here… Well. I moved here ages ago when I ran away from home. He came by only a couple of years ago.”
           “Oh?” I guess you’ve got it now, too.
           “So, my brother is no fool. He knew something bizarre was a-foot. He told me about it and we figured we’d hold off on handing this one over to the Exchange. So, my brother set up a meeting of sorts that was really a trap and in she fell, completely ensnared but…. Willingly!” I could see this visibly affected her.
           “What was the trap?” I asked.
           “Well, the Jedi knew that once she’d tipped the guy off at the Cantina he’d alert one of the Bounty Hunters. He told her to head to the Casino, where we usually conducted our racket those few weeks ago, where I was to spot her and relay the message onto my brother. I saw her, sent the message to my brother and then went up to her. I told her to come back to the Casino the following day at noon and then walked her right up to my brother’s cruiser in the docking pad – he was dressed up as a tourist guide. She was restrained and well, that was it. She was captured!”
           “Smooth. Captured though?”
           “Yeah, turns out she had meant to be captured all along.”
           “That’s so bizarre!” I added as she paused to take a swig of the last glass of juice.
           “Yeah, so he gets to talking to this Jedi and you won’t believe how this pans out.”
           “Do tell.” I mean, come on, there was enough building up, you know.
           “So, it turns out this Jedi wanted to be captured after all. She was chatty on the ride, my brother said. (I had to resist a smile here.) Apparently, she had a message for us. That was the reason why she had approached us in the first place.”
           “Hey Sis,” said a voice belonging to a body that was approaching our table. I gathered this was the Bounty Hunter Brother.
           “Zyro! I was just talking about you!”
           “What has she said? Has she been drinking a lot?”
           I couldn’t really respond in time.
           “Hann, please don’t tell me you’ve been talking about delicate things?”
           “More delicate than your ego?” She burst out laughing.
           “Oh dear…”
           “Relax, I was just talking about your latest capture, if you can call it that.”
           “That’s still sensitive, Hann. We can’t just go about telling random people off the street about that!”, and then, looking at me, “No offence.”
           I don’t get it. You can’t just tack that on and expect everything to be smooth as a Kaminoan’s scalp, you know? Instead, I just nodded my head to indicate that no offence had been taken. Very much a lie, of course.
           “Relax!! Nartt’s crew.”
           “Hi Nartt! I’m Zyro” He extended his hand, very un-Sith like and very un-Bounty Hunter. Or maybe politeness is really meant to be practised by all.
           “Hi, Zyro!”
           “So what has she been telling you?”
           “I just reached the part of the story where things got interesting! He sat through the boring bits. I owe it to him to finish.”
           “I’ll take it from here,” said Zyro and flashed a mischievous grin at his sister.
           “Nope.”
           “Fine, continue.”
           I sat through all this waiting for someone to till me about my beloved friend.
           “So anyway, this Jedi is really chatty and starts talking to Zyro about a message she’s carrying. Zyro asks what message she’s talking about and then she says, ‘it’s from your mother’. Weird, right? So he halts, right there, middle of Nar Shaddaa traffic, to talk to his passenger. Any other planet and they’d have been had. So then she starts talking about how she met our mother and that she was responsible for her mother’s death. Zyro was devastated because he left home only a couple of years ago – me, I knew my mom was out in dangerous waters so I was shaken, but not too horrified, you know?”
           “Sorry, dangerous waters? What does that mean?” I had to pretend like I didn’t know the story, you know?
           “Oh right, so. I’m running scams out on Nar Shaddaa and my brother is a Bounty Hunter. This is nowhere near what we were raised into. You see… well, I know you’re cool and you can handle this. My, our, mother is an officer with the Sith fleet. She was with the Republic but turned when Revan returned. She had been there in the war with Revan and saw fit to follow him. I don’t know. I don’t really see eye to eye with her and it had been years since we had communicated. I don’t hate her because as I’ve grown older I’ve come to understand that loyalties and positions and values are constantly shifting things so I can’t hold something against her, just because I wouldn’t necessarily make the same choices. It’s one of those things that comes as you grow older, I guess, heh.”
           “I understand…” It’s been years since I’ve seen my own family.
           “So yeah, she says that our mother’s dead but had a message to be sent to us.”
           “Naturally once she said this I had to call Hann and tell her about it. I didn’t know how to process all of this and I still had to deal with the Jedi in my cruiser!”
           “It was the hardest decision for us. On the one hand, yes, she was killed, but then, she signed up for the war. In that moment I realised how devastating it must have also been for the countless other families who may or may not be given messages of their loved ones having perished in a war they may or may not have signed up for. It was not something I can describe, Nartt.
           “Even if someone signs up for a war to fight in, it’s not ever their own fight. This whole Civil War affair was just something that none of us really believed in. It’s the only way to drive the masses to sign up, of course, but it’s hard to convince families to send their fathers, mothers and siblings to die for a battle on a planet that is parsecs away just because of some skirmish from a group of raiders. And then to twist the Civil War into something about patriotism when none of us knew what the Republic was about anymore.
           “Our mother rushed in to sign up for the Mandalorian war. Our home-world was attacked in the early stages and she wanted to do something about it. She was in Revan’s ship when it attacked the planet she would later die on. She was a part of the team that had led the Fleet to victory despite severe losses on the ground.
           “Anyway, Zyro wanted to kill her first but then I talked him out of it. She sounded genuinely apologetic and didn’t mean to kill our mother. From what she said, she deflected her blaster bolt. She could have been lying of course – Jedi are no saints- but what difference would it make? Zyro brought her back to me and we talked it out. I was sick and tired of the violence in the Outer Rim and from what she said, so was our mother. She delivered the message and a device. I asked her what she’d be up to as an ex-Jedi. She said something vague about helping people for real.
           “That was the last we ever heard from her. She just took a taxi and headed off somewhere, no doubt off-planet to avoid other Bounty Hunters on this blasted rock. Shame, I kind of liked her. I mean, a Jedi, even an ex-Jedi, is plenty interesting company you know? And she was pretty interesting to talk to. Even Zyro found her company enjoyable once the murderous cloud moved away from his mind.”
           “How do you both feel about your mother’s passing?”
           “To be honest,” began Zyro, “it was quite a blow. She had sent me away to Nal Hutta after the Mandalorian threat had been crushed and she remained with Revan. I guess she knew that this wouldn’t have gone down well with a lot of people and I could be held for ransom or something. I wish I could have been there to say goodbye, but I’m glad I have the holorecording.”
           “Yeah, goodbyes always suck and they’re pointless if you never really were on good terms before the final push – fake, almost. I don’t hate her now for her choices – I’m sure she made her choices based on what she thought was necessary for herself and for us. It’s hard to sit thousands of planets away and criticise someone for their choices, you know? I wish I could have spoken to her and told her I don’t hate her for going to war. But I guess the only way I can communicate that now to her is to live in a way in which she’d have been happy for us. I guess that might be a stretch, considering I’m running scams but, hey! I’m only targeting wealthy marks! That’s gotta count, right?”
           “How do you feel about the Jedi, and what she did?”
           “Like I said, even if we decided to go the revenge route and Zyro fired off his blaster, what would that have solved? The horrors and murders that are a part of war are atrocious but the quicker we leave them behind, the better. If we carry that on, we’d be ensuring its perpetual control over us. Killing the Jedi may have helped heal, but it would have added suffering to an already ransacked Universe. I guess I feel better for having forgiven her. She came here because for some reason, my mother had forgiven her for deflecting that bolt back at her and chose to ask her to bring the message. I didn’t feel like I forced that choice: I just forgave her because it was what I wanted to do.”
           There was a pause here.
           “I know you must be thinking, ‘hey, you’re a bounty hunter but you’re out forgiving Jedi, what’s that all about?’ and to be honest, I don’t know how to process that divide. I don’t know how to reconcile the two sides. I don’t kill anyone, but I do take them to people who do kill them or something. I only have so much control over it because someone has to pay for the apartment and food!”
           “Have you tried other avenues of employment?” I asked. I’ve been employed by Hann for quite a while now.
           “Well, Hann doesn’t really want me around her work,” he said as he hung his head in shame.
            “Yeah! You panick too quickly! Scares them right off.”
           “Hey, Hann! That was me, too!” I kinda liked this kid.
           “You were atrocious, too. Still are….”
           “Hey!”
           “I feel that you’d do so much better with finding people who are meant to be found, Zyro. There’s a whole galaxy of broken families because of this war. People need to be found, reunited.”
           “I do like the sound of that. Where do I start though?”
           “I’m sure you’d find some work down at the refugee sector.”
           I nodded to signal my approval.
           “Awesome.”
           “Anyway, thanks, Nartt for listening to my troubles.”
           We paid the bill and headed out. I bade them farewell and set off for my home.
           It was time for me to open the package.
 ******************************* 6 ******************************* 
           I returned to my apartment and sat down in the solitary chair in my house.
I guess you must be wondering how things fit into place. How did Saranna come back to the planet she allowed for the destruction of during the war? Did she know or did that just happen by accident? Why did she forgive the Jedi so readily and entrust something so important as handing over a message to her children to this stranger who caused her death? Did the Premier know that Saranna was the one who stood by as her planet was besieged? Was she aware of how far-reaching her act of kindness had been?
Most importantly, right now, I needed to know: Where was Yor?
I found in the parcel a datapad with a document written by Yor and her lightsaber.
Not really keen on amputating myself with my remarkably unskilled hands, I picked up the datapad.
Hi Nartt,
           I’m sorry I couldn’t come back to see you. It’ll be a while before I can come back to the surface and our Cantina.
           Long story short, I found the kids and delivered the message. Unfortunately, the twerp who led me to them decided to take things into his own hands and thought he’d make good on the Bounty on my head. I had to get out of my apartment and lie low to not be captured.
           I guess it’s pretty selfish of me to have thought about myself, but how can I help mend the galaxy if I’m broken? So I decided to make myself useful by finding out where help is most needed.
           The thought of leaving the planet did strike me, of course, but ever since I met those kids, who are terrific by the way, I liked the idea of bringing people back messages from their families, torn apart by the war. I had the fortune to reunite one family, in a manner of speaking, and I knew there were many others out there who needed help.
           I couldn’t help anyone sitting cloistered away in an Academy when suffering lay all about. I didn’t have to go very far to find souls to help either because the miserable ways of our worlds are such that there’s help required far closer to home always if we’re willing to listen.
           If you do choose to find me, we can have that glass of Juma Juice and I can apologise in person and hey, if you never want to see me again, I did say I’d buy the round!
Yor-Ema.
Well, that settled it, didn’t it? I had to go find her. I stashed the lightsaber away and stuffed the datapad into a pocket.
I called Zyro on my holocom to tell him I’d be heading down to the Refugee Sector the next day and he apologised as he was already down there and that I’d have to find my own ride.
It was no bother. I knew I couldn’t take my own cruiser, so I took a taxi down to the Cantina to fill up a flask and headed down to the Refugee Sector.
I brought with me some of my old clothes and bought some new ones as well for kids of different species. I realised that it doesn’t hurt to be kind. You never know where that kindness will stretch. Sometimes a kindness towards an enemy on an unnamed planet in the middle of a war can lead to children finding peace with the death of their mother in a war halfway across the galaxy, who then carry on that kindness, as do all the people who are hear about it. Kindness can span the galaxy just as easily as war does and it’s far more desirable.
I looked around for Yor all through the day but couldn’t find her. I had a quick lunch with Zyro who was much more delighted with his new role of healing families than he was being a Bounty Hunter. He asked me about what brought me to the Refugee Sector and I said I had no interesting story of my own – I merely heard many stories about how there was help needed. I didn’t have to have a story of my own to really be of use.
He had to leave to take some messages to the surface to the relatives of some people in the Refugee Sector and excused himself.
Towards the end of the day I was exhausted. It is one thing to be academically opposed to war and another thing to come face-to-face with the disasters it brings to all who participate. I sat in one of the container homes that housed their limited inventory of apparel and asked them what they needed the next day. I was just about done noting down their request when a voice from outside caught my attention.
“I hope you brought something in that flask, Nartt.”
“Oh, is that so? What would you like?”
“Juma Juice please!”
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